On the fifth day on the island, the weather was still clear. The pale blue sky was completely different from the heavy cloud cover over Yunjing City.
At 3:45 in the afternoon, Sheng Chengxiu pushed open the door.
He was carrying two cups of coffee, placing one on the table while holding the other himself, like a neighbor making an ordinary daily visit.
Today, he was wearing a light-gray jacket, more casual than the clothes he had worn over the previous few days, as though the pace of life on this island had allowed him to lower some of his defenses.
Su Muchen sat by the window without looking at him.
Sheng Chengxiu came every day.
He would sit down, drink coffee, ask one question, and then leave.
Su Muchen had already grown accustomed to this rhythm, just as he had grown accustomed to the sound of the waves and the way sunlight fell across the white walls.
“Mr. Su.” Sheng Chengxiu stood at the doorway, as usual. “Would you like to talk about the door today?”
“No.”
He said it without looking at him.
Sheng Chengxiu tilted his head slightly, studying him. “You seem more relaxed than before.”
Su Muchen did not answer and remained silent.
“No rush.” Sheng Chengxiu’s tone was as gentle as ever. “We have plenty of time.”
After putting down his coffee, he did not sit down immediately.
He stood beside the table. “Mr. Su, there have been some cases of mosquito-borne diseases on the island recently.”
Su Muchen finally turned his head.
He looked at Sheng Chengxiu, still silent.
“For health and safety reasons, we need to conduct a health examination on everyone on the island,” Sheng Chengxiu said. “Including you.”
Su Muchen was silent for a moment before speaking. “There are no mosquitoes here.” His tone was calm, but there was a certain sharpness to it. “I’ve been here for five days and haven’t seen a single mosquito.”
Then he raised his eyes and gave Sheng Chengxiu a cold look. “I have seen one cockroach, though.”
Sheng Chengxiu smiled with his usual elegance, as though he had not heard the sarcasm. “Prevention is always better than treatment.”
“This is an excuse,” Su Muchen said.
There was no way Sheng Chengxiu would conduct a health examination on him for no reason. There had to be some purpose behind it.
Sheng Chengxiu did not argue.
He picked up his coffee and took a sip.
“This is already an infringement on my personal freedom,” Su Muchen said, his tone colder than before. “You have no right to force me to undergo any medical examination.”
Sheng Chengxiu set down his coffee cup. When the bottom touched the table, it made an extremely soft sound.
He raised his eyes. His tone remained gentle, but there was an almost imperceptible sharpness beneath it.
“Mr. Su, I invited you to the island for a vacation. Protecting your health and safety is also my responsibility.”
Su Muchen did not answer.
He knew Sheng Chengxiu was going in circles.
Using “vacation” to disguise a kidnapping, and “health” to disguise an examination.
But he had no way to refute him. Even if he filed a lawsuit, he had no evidence to prove anything.
All he could do was sit there and feel that invisible force of control, wrapped layer by layer around him, slowly tightening.
“Five days ago,” Sheng Chengxiu suddenly changed his tone, as though he had just remembered something. “My people saw Mr. Xiao driving a dark-red Jaguar, speeding on the highway. He was going very fast, over 160 kilometers per hour. He almost got into an accident.”
Su Muchen’s pupils contracted slightly.
Five days ago was precisely the day he had been kidnapped by Sheng Chengxiu.
But what Sheng Chengxiu said next made Su Muchen feel genuine fear of this man for the first time, deep in his heart.
Sheng Chengxiu’s expression remained calm as he lowered his head and straightened his cuff.
“I’ve always believed that accidents are best avoided.” He smiled faintly, his tone indifferent. “Especially when they happen to someone important.”
The room fell silent again.
Sheng Chengxiu had not made a single explicit threat.
But Su Muchen understood.
If he refused today—
then next time—
it might not be merely “almost.”
Su Muchen’s fingers tightened against his knees.
That sentence had been spoken so lightly, as if it were nothing more than an offhand remark, yet he understood the weight behind it.
Sheng Chengxiu was not in a hurry. He had enough patience to wait until Su Muchen was willing to cooperate.
And Xiao, no matter where he was or what he was doing right now, could become the next target at any moment as long as Sheng Chengxiu remained alive.
Su Muchen remained silent for a long time.
His fingers were clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.
Then he slowly loosened his grip, as though allowing an invisible protective layer to gradually peel away.
Outside the window, the sound of the waves remained steady, as though time were passing through this island in a way he could not control.
Su Muchen’s gaze fell on Sheng Chengxiu, carrying coldness and a trace of unwillingness to yield.
Then he slowly spoke.
“You have to tell me exactly what you’re going to examine. If you don’t explain it clearly, I won’t do it.”
At this moment, he truly hated Sheng Chengxiu to the extreme.
He had turned Su Muchen’s life into a complete mess, causing him to lose his job as a doctor.
And now he was using Xiao’s safety to threaten and control him.
Sheng Chengxiu raised his eyebrows slightly as he looked at him.
He could tell that Su Muchen was furious, but not only had he suppressed his emotions, he had also calmly reclaimed the last bit of control over the situation.
He admired people with this kind of rationality.
They were easier to communicate with than those who simply allowed their emotions to run wild.
But they were also troublesome.
Sheng Chengxiu took out a sheet of paper and laid it flat on the table.
Several lines of text were printed on it, as though it had been prepared some time ago.
“The examinations are very simple,” he said, tapping the paper twice with his fingertip. “You can raise any objections.”
Su Muchen picked up the sheet and checked its contents.
The health examinations Sheng Chengxiu had listed were indeed not much different from an ordinary physical examination.
There were basic physiological measurements, including height, weight, blood pressure, pulse, body temperature, body fat percentage, and basal metabolic rate.
There was also an electrocardiogram.
Then came the blood tests:
A complete blood count, biochemical testing, immunological testing, and trace-element analysis.
His gaze quickly swept across the list, lingering for a moment longer on one item under “blood tests”—
Special blood testing (genetic marker analysis).
He did not ask what that was, because he knew Sheng Chengxiu would not answer.
There were also several other examinations, such as a chest X-ray, abdominal ultrasound, vision and hearing tests, a full-body skin examination, a mental health assessment, and so on.
“A pen.”
Without raising his head, he held out his hand for one.
Sheng Chengxiu took a pen from his pocket and handed it to him.
Su Muchen uncapped it and quickly crossed out several examination items.
In the end, the only things he left were the basic physiological measurements and the complete blood count.
He did not want Sheng Chengxiu examining too much. Although he did not want to give him blood either, Sheng Chengxiu clearly would not let the matter go, so he could only choose the safest tests.
“The complete blood count.” He raised his head, his tone calm but firm and leaving no room for negotiation. “You can only use one purple-top tube. The blood volume is limited to one milliliter. If it exceeds that amount, I won’t accept it.”
Sheng Chengxiu raised his eyebrows slightly, but still nodded.
“No problem.”
“How long will all this take?” he asked.
“It won’t take up too much of your time,” Sheng Chengxiu said.
“I want the test results.”
“Of course.”
After that, Su Muchen said nothing more.
He did not refuse.
Because he knew the price of refusing.
But he also did not want to simply follow the other man’s wishes completely.
Sheng Chengxiu gave a slight nod toward the door.
Two staff members dressed in white lab coats pushed a silver cart into the room.
A layer of green sterile cloth covered the cart. Blood collection tubes, tourniquets, alcohol swabs, labels, and several spare vacuum blood-collection tubes were neatly arranged on top.
Unopened medical gloves and a marker pen were also placed on the metal tray.
Every item was arranged in perfect order, as though everything had been prepared long ago.
When Su Muchen saw the cart, the last trace of his thought that this might merely be a test disappeared.
He did not move. He simply sat by the window and watched the two staff members park the cart beside the table before stepping to either side, as though waiting for him to cooperate.
Sheng Chengxiu remained standing beside the table.
He looked at Su Muchen, his tone gentle.
“Mr. Su, please cooperate.”
Su Muchen silently stood up and walked to the table before sitting down.
When he extended his left arm, his movements were slow, as though he were still extremely unwilling.
As the staff member tied a tourniquet around his upper arm, he kept his eyes fixed on the other person’s every movement, planning to resist immediately if they drew more than the agreed amount.
When the needle pierced his skin, he drew in a quiet breath.
Sheng Chengxiu stood beside him, silently watching the process.
As Su Muchen watched his blood slowly flow into the tube, he suddenly realized that what Sheng Chengxiu truly wanted might not be his cooperation, but this tube of blood.
Dark-red blood flowed through the soft tube into the collection tube. Once exactly one milliliter had been drawn, the staff member stopped.
Sheng Chengxiu did not show any expression of satisfaction, as though he had merely confirmed that something he had expected had indeed happened.
The staff member removed the needle and pressed a cotton ball against the puncture site, the movement swift and practiced.
They placed a label on the collection tube, wrote down the date and number, and then neatly returned all the equipment to the cart.
“Thank you for your cooperation,” Sheng Chengxiu said.
Su Muchen did not answer.
He pressed the cotton ball with his other hand, feeling a slight warmth around the puncture site.
He did not look up at Sheng Chengxiu. He followed the staff members to complete the remaining examinations.
◆◇◆◇◆
Dinner was set in a small lounge in the east wing of the medical center.
The room was not large. The lighting was adjusted to a warm tone. A white tablecloth covered the table, which held two sets of cutlery, a decanter, and two wine glasses.
Outside the window were dense shadows of tropical plants. In the distance, the low chirping of nocturnal insects sounded almost like some kind of continuous electronic noise.
When Su Muchen was brought in, he had changed into a clean, light mist-blue shirt.
It had been prepared by Sheng Chengxiu, and, unexpectedly, it fit him perfectly.
He had not refused to put it on, because ever since he arrived here, everything he wore had been prepared by Sheng Chengxiu.
But he knew clearly that this “thoughtfulness” was itself another form of control.
From his clothes and surroundings to the lighting and temperature, everything was silently telling him:
You are on my territory.
You are under my control.
Sheng Chengxiu was already sitting at the table.
He was not wearing a suit, only a dark-blue shirt, the cuffs casually rolled to the middle of his forearms. He looked somewhat more relaxed than he had in Yunjing, but he still possessed an undeniable presence.
“Sit.”
He raised his chin slightly, his tone like that of someone entertaining an old friend who had arrived late.
Su Muchen did not sit down immediately.
He first swept his gaze over the cutlery, wine bottle, and water glasses on the table, then pulled out the chair and sat opposite Sheng Chengxiu.
His movements were neither fast nor slow, as though deliberately letting the other man know that he would not be intimidated by any setting.
Sheng Chengxiu looked at him, the corners of his mouth curving slightly upward.
“Don’t worry. I didn’t drug it.”
Su Muchen raised his eyes.
“You’re afraid I put something in the wine?” Sheng Chengxiu pushed the decanter toward him. “If I wanted to do something to you, I wouldn’t need to use that kind of method.”
Su Muchen lowered his eyes and glanced at the bottle of red wine. Its color was deep and rich, reflecting a dark-red sheen beneath the light.
He did not touch the wine glass.
“Then tell me. What should I be afraid of?”
Sheng Chengxiu did not answer. He merely poured himself half a glass of wine, gently swirled it, and then took a sip.
His movements were calm and unhurried, displaying a kind of silent proof.
“Su Muchen, I’ve actually wanted to be friends with you for a long time.”
Su Muchen was silent for a moment.
Then he laughed.
There was no warmth in it.
“Friends?”
His tone made it sound as though he had just heard the funniest joke in the world.
Sheng Chengxiu looked at him.
“You first schemed to make Su Jiancheng fall into debt, causing him to mortgage Guichen Studio. After he died, the debt was transferred to me. You used the bank, lawyers, and the cultural association to pressure me one after another. I finally managed to find some money to keep things going, and then you made me lose my chance to join the hospital, making all the years of effort I put in amount to nothing. Then you sent people to assassinate Xiao. And now you’ve kidnapped me to an island that can’t even be found on a map, sent people to draw my blood, and then sat here and told me that you want to be my friend?”
With every sentence, his tone grew colder.
It was as though he had been suppressing all of this for a very long time.
When the final sentence fell, the red wine on the table reflected the warm yellow light like a pool of dark color that had solidified.
“Sheng Chengxiu, you should have gone to see a psychiatrist a long time ago.”
Su Muchen suppressed the anger in his heart. He knew there was no use in getting angry, but he genuinely had the urge to curse Sheng Chengxiu out.
Sheng Chengxiu did not get angry.
He even smiled slightly, as though he had heard a joke that was not particularly funny, but also not worth seriously arguing over.
“You’re right.” He set down his wine glass, folded his hands on the table, and leaned forward slightly. “But have you ever thought about this? If I really only wanted Guichen Studio, why would I put so much effort into you?”
Su Muchen did not respond.
Sheng Chengxiu continued, “I could have simply let the bank auction it off and had the court enforce the judgment, leaving you with nothing within a few months. But I didn’t. I gave you a chance to decide for yourself.”
“That is what you call a chance?” Su Muchen sneered coldly.
“For me, it is.” Sheng Chengxiu leaned back against his chair. “Because I wanted to see when you would come looking for me of your own accord.”
Su Muchen looked at him and suddenly felt that the man before him was even more difficult to deal with than he had imagined.
He did not care about being cursed at.
He did not care about being accused.
He did not even care about being portrayed as a ruthless person who would stop at nothing.
The only thing he cared about was the result. To him, every process was merely a route toward that result.
“Su Muchen, I can give you many things.” Sheng Chengxiu’s voice lowered slightly, the relaxed tone gradually being replaced by something more genuine and colder. “Money, freedom, status, security. As long as you nod and stay by my side, you won’t have to worry about anything anymore.”
Su Muchen was silent for several seconds.
“Stay by your side?”
He repeated those words as though savoring a phrase that did not quite taste right.
Sheng Chengxiu did not deny it. He simply looked at him.
Su Muchen suddenly laughed.
This time, it was a genuine laugh, carrying a sense of absurdity that even he had not expected.
“Sheng Chengxiu, do you think you can give me what I want?”
Sheng Chengxiu’s gaze darkened slightly.
Su Muchen stood up, placed both hands on the table, and leaned forward slightly, bringing his eyes level with Sheng Chengxiu’s.
“What I want is very simple. A house that doesn’t leak. A potted plant. A job as a doctor. An ordinary life where I don’t have to worry about being watched every single day.” His tone was calm, as though he were describing a wish he had given up on long ago. “You can’t give me a single one of those things. Because everything you give me will eventually become another rope for you to use to control me.”
He paused, then his voice became deeper and colder.
“And besides, even if you could give them to me, I wouldn’t want them.”
Sheng Chengxiu looked at him.
The light fell across the side of Su Muchen’s face, revealing the faint bluish shadows beneath his eyes and the unmistakable refusal in his gaze.
It was not bravado.
It was not a negotiating tactic.
It was the calmness of someone who had already thought everything through, with no room left for compromise.
Sheng Chengxiu set down his wine glass, his voice neither high nor low.
“Are you sure?”
“I am.” Su Muchen straightened. “Because I never negotiate with the person who kidnapped me. That’s coercion, not cooperation.”
The lounge fell silent for several seconds.
The chirping of insects came from outside the window, making the silence of this moment especially distinct.
Sheng Chengxiu suddenly laughed.
The laugh was brief, as usual.
“Fine.” He picked up his wine glass, drained the remaining wine in one gulp, then stood up. “That’s enough for today. Go back.”
Su Muchen did not stay a second longer.
He turned and walked toward the door at an unhurried pace.
As he pushed open the door, Sheng Chengxiu’s voice came from behind him.
“Su Muchen, you’ll change your mind.”
Su Muchen did not turn around.
“Impossible.”
The door closed behind him.
The corridor’s lighting was cold white, forming a stark contrast with the warm yellow light inside the lounge.
Two guards stood not far away. When they saw him come out, they silently followed.
Su Muchen walked between them, his fingertips slightly cold, but he did not tremble.
He had refused very decisively just now.
But he also knew that Sheng Chengxiu’s words had not been a threat.
They were more like a prediction he had already made certain would come true.
He would come again.
And next time, he would bring a different bargaining chip.
Su Muchen returned to his room, closed the door, and leaned against the wall.
He lowered his head and looked at his arm. The puncture wound from the blood draw that afternoon had already scabbed over, surrounded by a small ring of faint bluish bruising.
Sheng Chengxiu’s actions would not be meaningless. He might already have noticed something, and had now begun treating Su Muchen like a laboratory animal.
This time, it was one tube of blood.
Next time, it would be more than that.
He could never compromise with Sheng Chengxiu.
Because the other man had never regarded him as a “person.”
◇◆◇◆◇
The monitoring center was located on the first underground level of the research center, covering an area of approximately forty ping. The lighting was maintained at a constant low-blue-light setting.
Directly ahead, the monitoring wall consisted of forty-eight high-resolution display panels assembled into a complete visual matrix.
The central control console had a shallow arc shape, with multiple touch panels and physical buttons embedded into its surface.
The cables and equipment units beneath the console were neatly organized, with all the equipment integrated into a unified control system.
The central main screen could display real-time satellite images of the entire island, personnel locations, access-control status, air-conditioning and power monitoring.
All the data in the entire research center could be accessed from this console.
Sheng Chengxiu sat in the very center of the control console. Three main screens were in front of him, displaying the live feed from Su Muchen’s room, the corridor surveillance footage, and the night-vision footage of the area outside the building.
About three steps behind him to the right, a technician sat at a secondary control console, responsible for monitoring equipment status and video signals.
Sheng Chengxiu had grown accustomed to having this person sitting there, like a piece of equipment that would never disturb him.
Several additional input panels were placed on the control console to the left. They could switch between footage from different floors, access historical records, and adjust the cameras’ focus and angles.
Sheng Chengxiu rarely used those panels because the footage from Su Muchen’s room hardly needed any adjustment.
The camera in that room had already been positioned at the optimal angle, clearly capturing the activity throughout the entire room.
At this moment, the forty-eight monitoring screens were all displaying different images.
Several screens in the center showed live footage from Su Muchen’s room.
He was sitting cross-legged on the bed, both hands resting flat in front of his knees.
The screen in the upper-right corner showed a panoramic view of the corridor on the north side of the building. The lights were bright, and no one was walking through it.
The lower-right screen showed the night-vision footage of the boundary between the windbreak forest and the beach. In black, white, and gray, the waves were slowly striking the shore.
The remaining screens alternated between different areas of the research center.
The laboratory, dining hall, library, server room, power-generation equipment area.
Every screen was operating steadily, like a transparent fortress that could be inspected at any moment.
Sheng Chengxiu’s gaze remained fixed on the central screen for a long time.
His right thumb occasionally tapped lightly against the edge of the desk.
The monitoring room was very quiet. The temperature was several degrees lower than outside. The air-conditioning system continuously produced the faintest sound of airflow, mixed with the electrical hum of the equipment and the soft, intermittent sounds of the technician tapping on the keyboard.
Su Muchen on the screen remained in the same position.
He had been sitting cross-legged on the bed, both hands resting flat on his knees, palms facing downward, fingertips slightly spread.
He had been sitting like that for nearly twenty minutes, his breathing steady and barely moving.
It looked like he was meditating.
Although Su Muchen had turned off all the lights in the room, the surveillance system could still observe his every movement through night-vision mode.
Sheng Chengxiu watched him without looking away, as though analyzing a mystery that greatly interested him.
On his left was an open notebook with several lines written on it.
A pen lay beside the notebook.
A very thin horizontal line flashed across the edge of the screen.
Sheng Chengxiu’s fingers stopped.
He watched the line appear and disappear in an instant, after which the image returned to normal, as though nothing had happened.
Half a minute later, the center of the image briefly paused for about half a second, as though it had frozen for an instant.
Sheng Chengxiu narrowed his eyes slightly.
He reached out and pressed a key, rewinding the footage by three seconds and slowing it down before watching it again.
Just before the pause, Su Muchen raised his right hand and reached toward the space in front of him. The movement looked as though he were trying to grasp something.
But there was nothing there.
Nothing could be seen.
Yet immediately after he made that movement, the surveillance footage briefly paused.
As though some kind of interference had occurred.
Sheng Chengxiu leaned back slightly and did not replay it again.
He picked up his tea, took a sip, and set it down, his movements precise and composed.
Sheng Chengxiu spent a certain amount of time every day reviewing the surveillance footage.
He had discovered that Su Muchen was not as obedient as he appeared.
Instead, he was systematically looking for a way to escape from here.
On the first day, Su Muchen did not sleep.
After being brought into the room, he first stood at the door and listened for a while.
Then he walked to the window.
The window was locked shut. The glass was thick, and beyond it was the sea.
He tested the edges of the window frame with his palm.
There were no gaps, no place where he could pry it open.
He then examined the walls, floor, and ceiling.
There was no hidden door, no ventilation opening, and nothing he could remove.
He sat on the edge of the bed and remained silent for a long time.
Then he turned off the light.
In the darkness, he did not lie down.
He sat on the bed and crossed his legs.
Sheng Chengxiu sat in the monitoring room and watched this scene.
The dim room contained only the silver-white moonlight spreading across the floor through the window.
Su Muchen sat at the edge of that patch of moonlight, his body leaning slightly forward, his hand reaching toward the space ahead of him, like someone groping for something in the darkness.
Sheng Chengxiu did not look away.
He watched for a long time.
After approximately fifteen minutes, the footage began to show abnormalities.
Several extremely thin horizontal lines flashed across the edge of the screen, like interference waves, appearing and disappearing in an instant.
Sheng Chengxiu did not operate the controls. He merely watched the anomaly, confirming that it was not an equipment malfunction.
On the evening of the second day, Su Muchen put on the silver wristband.
From that day onward, his permitted range of movement expanded.
Through the surveillance footage, Sheng Chengxiu watched him leave his room after breakfast and walk south along the corridor.
He walked very slowly, observing his surroundings as he went.
He stopped once at a corner.
He stayed in the dining hall for fifteen minutes, drank a glass of water, and then continued walking.
When he reached the southern exit of the building, he stopped.
There was a glass door there.
He stepped forward and tried to see whether his wristband would grant him access.
After discovering that it did not, he stood there for a while before turning around and walking back.
In the afternoon, he went to the western side of the building.
There was a small library there, with neatly arranged bookshelves.
He entered without looking through the books. Instead, he first surveyed the size of the room and the positions of the windows.
He stood by the window for a while, as though confirming the terrain outside, and then left.
By the third day, Su Muchen had explored everywhere he could possibly go and had not found any way out.
Sheng Chengxiu simply watched his movements in silence, as though watching a pet move around within the boundaries he had set.
On the fourth night, Su Muchen turned off the lights, just as he had over the previous few days.
He sat cross-legged on the bed and extended his hand in the same direction.
Sheng Chengxiu watched that screen from the monitoring room.
He had been observing this movement for four consecutive nights and had not missed a single occurrence.
The footage became abnormal again.
Extremely thin horizontal lines flashed across the edge, like traces left behind when wind passed through grass.
They lasted slightly longer than on the previous nights, approximately two seconds.
Sheng Chengxiu’s fingers stopped against the edge of the desk.
He stared at the screen.
Then, a large amount of static suddenly appeared across the surveillance footage, like snowflakes covering the entire screen. It lasted for nearly five seconds before the image returned to normal.
Sheng Chengxiu froze the footage, enlarged it, and carefully examined it once.
The pattern of the static was irregular, resembling the traces left behind when some kind of signal was being interfered with.
He pulled up the historical records from the surveillance cameras around Guichen Studio and placed the two sets of footage side by side, comparing them frame by frame.
The pattern of the static and the rhythm with which it disappeared were almost completely identical.
It was as though the same invisible ripple had simultaneously touched two different locations.
He leaned back in his chair, his gaze falling on the screen.
On the footage, Su Muchen withdrew his hand.
He did nothing else unusual.
Sheng Chengxiu closed the replay and did not watch any further.
“Perform an in-depth analysis of the segment just now.”
After giving the instruction, Sheng Chengxiu left the monitoring room and returned to his own room.
Outside the window, the night remained deep and dark, and the sea seemed to have no visible end.
If it happened only once, it might be a coincidence.
But if it happened every time, then it was not a coincidence.
He did not know what Su Muchen was doing.
But he knew it was definitely not meaningless.
Whenever Su Muchen extended his hand, sometimes static would cover the entire screen; sometimes only several extremely thin horizontal lines would flash rapidly across it; sometimes the image would disappear briefly for two seconds.
It was as though some invisible force were passing through the island’s surveillance system.
Every anomaly occurred only during the period when Su Muchen extended his hand.
Sheng Chengxiu had already seen what he wanted to see.
He had confirmed one thing—
Su Muchen’s bloodline was indeed special.
The sentence in the fragment—
“When the door is opened, the key’s blood must serve as the guide.”
That sentence was true.
If he wanted to open that door, he first had to control Su Muchen.
Not long afterward, the technician sent the processed video to his phone.
He put on his glasses and connected them to his phone.
The video appeared directly before his eyes through the glasses.
The screen was still filled with large patches of snowy static, and the audio was also full of interference.
But amid the faint noise, he seemed to hear Su Muchen murmuring something.
After listening to it repeatedly several times, he finally heard Su Muchen’s whisper amid the mass of static.
—“Jingyuan.”
He did not know what these two characters meant.
They sounded like a person’s name, but among Su Muchen’s past social circles, including his online social-media records, he had never seen this name.
But it was a clue.
Sheng Chengxiu committed those two characters to memory.